


What Could Have Been

by orphan_account



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: F/M, Girl member of the team, Other Female Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I give nicknames to my friends." She glances at him from the corner of her eye, and grins. He's so, so glad he's filming her when she says that. "Are we friends?" She rolls her eyes and frowns at him. "Yes, Andy. We're friends." His smile widens so much it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could Have Been

It's Monday, and Andrew is sitting in homeroom with his hands clasped in front of him, alone. As usual. The sun is shining brightly through the safety-glass windows (he knows this because he's been pushed into them enough) and he can feel the sweat collecting at the back of his neck, but he doesn't take off his sweater. He feels safer with it on, and it also covers the bruises better than just a shirt. It's a- what does Matt call something like that?- defence mechanism, or something. He fights the urge to scoff at the thought. Matt's all into psychology and philosophy right now. Trying to impress Casey, he bets. It's kind of frustrating, that Matt tries to change for Casey when it's blindingly obvious that she wants him anyway. Always has, always will. And then Matt goes around, quoting Confucius or Descartes or whoever, sounding like a mega douche.

Andrew allows himself a glimmer of a smile while he recalls the hilarious sound of his cousin singing along to Jessie J- the real Matt, one that Casey could fall in love with, the one that Andrew looks up to.

The classroom is filled with the sound of people chattering, laughing (thankfully not at him- not right now, homeroom is one of the only places Andrew's mostly left alone), although a little less vibrant than usual. Andrew puts this down to leftover tiredness and cobwebs from the weekend parties and late nights and drink. He's guessing, of course, since the only parties he's ever really been to were his and Matt's, back when they were kids, before his dad stopped allowing him to have parties and be happy. Would he really  _want_ to go to these kids parties anyway, even if his dad would allow him? Probably not. They wouldn't invite him, anyway. He's too weird, a loser, a nobody. Just like his dad says, he guesses. Only, his dad is even more of a loser than he is. Andrew takes comfort in this.

His thoughts are interrupted when the substitute teacher clears her throat and says, "We have a new student joining us today, guys."

Andrew looks up just as the new girl enters the room. He knows it's selfish, but he wishes that this kid will be weirder than he is so the idiots will leave him alone- somewhat. She's short, dressed much like the other girls (jeans, sneakers, shirt), and sort of pretty- in a wild, unkempt sort of way. Her hair is blonde, left un-styled, simply parted off the side and falls in waves to her mid-back. As she walks to the centre of the class, Andrew notices that she has a graceful sort of walk that somehow makes her seem even more untidy. She has big eyes that look around at the people in the class, never really focusing on any of them. They're a colour between blue and grey, and her mouth is set in a sort of half-smile. This, combined with the bored, vacant expression makes her look as if she's somewhere else.

She's weird, but  _that_ sort of weird that screams  _no craps will be given._ The sort that people, eventually and begrudgingly, respect. Dammit.

"Can you tell us a little about yourself?" the sub asks, and when the girl nods silence falls.

"My name's Grace McKibbon, I'm from Manhattan, I moved here with my mom last week." She says, unceremoniously.

Grace. It fits, but then it doesn't. Andrew tries to categorise her ( _cheerleader, nerd, drama student, art freak, hipster_ ) but comes up with nothing.

The sub looks a little surprised at the abrupt and seemingly rehearsed answer. "Oh, OK. That's nice, Grace. Take a seat."

Grace nods and her gaze sweeps the room until it rests on the only seat available. Next to him. Of course it is. She's already started to move towards it in that strange walk of hers, so he can't move his stuff over and pass it off as someone else's. Even if he did, everyone else in the class is watching, and that would move him from 'a weirdo loser' to a 'a weirdo, loser jerk'. And he really doesn't need that, so he simply nods at her in greeting then returns to staring out the window.

Great. By choosing him to sit next to (not that this is really her fault, but Andrew's feeling bitter today) all the other kids in class start to snicker- no doubt thinking along the lines of " _Sucks for the new chick, sitting next to_ that  _loser"_.

They don't speak for the rest of homeroom, and Andrew leaves without a second glance. He sees Matt on his way to English, and gives him a discreet thumbs-up when he realises he's talking to Casey. Matt doesn't give any indication that he saw except for a quick glance in his direction, and a small nod.

Andrew doubts his cousin would ever admit it, but he doesn't really want to let on he talks to Andrew in front of the 'popular' crowd. This makes him kind of angry, in a way, but it's almost impossible to stay mad at Matt, so he lets it go. If the situations were reversed, he would probably do the same. He's selfish that way.

He arrives to English a little late, everyone's already there, and sits in his usual seat, next to the window that allows him to see into the school halls. The ones on the other side of the classroom were already taken, but it's too hot to sit next to them today, anyway. As he regards the teenagers on the other side of the glass, he sees Grace glide down the halls (because that's what she does- glide, unperturbed by the people around her), and watches as a guy whose name he doesn't know- a footballer, naturally, sidles up to her, offering her a smile and an introduction.

But the guy, all confidence before, suddenly starts to stutter when Grace's attention is turned to him. Andrew knows it's not because she's unearthly beautiful or anything- she's not, not at all, just something new to look at- but there's  _something_  that's making the normally smooth (Andrew guesses) boy falter.

When the footballer finally chokes out what he was about to say, Grace smiles a little and says something in return, then moves on. Towards Andrew's English class.

 _Typical,_ he thinks. And, even better, the only seat available is next to him. All his worst tormentors are in his English class… they'll definitely have something to make fun of him about later.

Luckily for him, though, they can't taunt him while he's actually  _in_ English- his teacher, Mr Fitzgerald, is one of the only members of staff who actually care about the kids he's teaching, and doesn't take any of the crap the idiots throw at him or anyone else.

English is his favourite subject this year- he doesn't want that ruined by some new girl, but it'll indefinitely happen. Like everything else.

"Sorry I'm late," Grace says to Mr Fitzgerald, "I got a little lost. I'm new."

"That's fine, Miss…?"

"McKibbon. Grace McKibbon."

"OK, Miss McKibbon, take a seat next to Mr Detmer over there. If you need anything or you feel as if you're being overwhelmed, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks." She walks over to his seat, eyebrows raised as she recognises him.

He nods at her, like he did in homeroom, but before he can look away she says, quietly because Mr F has started talking, "What's your name?"

"A-Andrew. And you're Grace, obviously." It's then he understands why the other guy looked so shocked before. When she actually focuses on something, she really  _focuses._  As in, one second she's on some other planet, then the next she's giving him her full, undivided attention. The transition's a little unnerving, especially to someone who doesn't usually receive all of someone's concentration. Her eyes seem to be suddenly lit up, instead of the usual dullness. She looks especially wild-  _untamed,_ like she belongs in the wilderness, the wild jungles of the Amazon.

…  _the wild jungles of the Amazon?_ He thinks.  _I'm insane._

Watching her now, he realises she is a very strange sort of pretty, but he's too shocked by her sudden change to really give it another thought.

She smiles a little. "Yeah. Nice to meet you."

"Same here."

"We're studying  _Hamlet_ , right?" she pulls out her paperback copy of the play from her shoulder bag and places it on the desk.

"Yeah."

"What's your thoughts?"

He's a little startled by the question- people don't generally ask him his thoughts, but he only hesitates a few seconds before answering. "I-I think it's a really good… um,"

"Good…?" she prompts.

"This is going to sound really geeky, but… I think it's a really good representation of the context during the Renaissance- especially with Hamlet, uh, himself. Be-before the play he would've been the, er, stereotypical wealthy guy during that time period, right?"

"Right, yeah."

"But that's all… stopped, I guess, by the tragedy that he, uh, endures. He stops everything in his life and is  _consumed_ by the need for revenge. And I think that really represents human flaw… the flaw of being led by your emotions- I think that's what Shakespeare was trying to do."

Grace nods slowly, her smile getting a little bigger. "That's not geeky at all… it's great, I understand a bit more. It's all about universal themes… everyone can relate to Shakespeare's plays."

"Yeah." He smiles back.

"It's funny… the actual play itself is boring as hell, but when you learn about how it all ties in to modern context, it's… pretty cool." She runs her fingers through her hair, making it even wilder, and Andrew notices that her hands are free of rings- unusual, he supposes, for a girl her age- and slender-fingered. The only ornament of any kind on them is a thin silver bracelet with no charms.

He'd love to film her talking to someone, see their reaction. Hell, he'd like to film her  _walking_ \- that's an oddity in itself.

"The power of relevance."

"Oh, of course."

They spend the rest of the period talking, pointing out passages they like (Grace loves "But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue", while Andrew thinks "…with such dexterity to incestuous sheets!" is awesome), and watching each other.

Andrew thinks Grace is one of the only people to take an interest in him, and then like what they find.

Grace thinks Andrew is one of the most interesting people she's ever met.

For an hour, he's distracted by what he'll inevitably face when he gets home.

*.*

"Dude- Wayne- give it back!" Andrew calls tiredly, knowing he won't get the camera until it's broken or damaged.

"Nah, I don't think I will!" Wayne yells back, tossing the already bad-quality camera from hand to hand. "Where'd you get this, anyway? The trash? It's a pile of junk!"

"No-"

"Just like your house, I guess, huh? And your mom?"

"Shut up!" Andrew's voice isn't tired anymore- it's full of rage.

"Ooohhh!" Wayne calls, dangling the camera from his fingertips mockingly. "Looks like I touched a nerve- you a  _mommy's boy,_ loser?"

"Shut  _up!_ "

Wayne, apparently, decides this is enough and starts to stalk towards him.

"Hey, asshole, give the camera back." Grace's now-familiar Manhattan accent rings out in the hallway, and Wayne turns to look at her.

"Hey, new girl, stay outta-"

"My name is Grace." She's standing stiffly, jaw clenched. Her gaze is intense, furious, and she seems inches taller.

" _Grace._ " Wayne drawls, smiling lazily at her, seemingly unperturbed by her fiery expression. He's either very brave, or very stupid- if that look Grace is sending him was turned on Andrew, he'd be a quivering mess by now. "I wouldn't worry yourself. He's a loser."

"Then why worry  _your_ self? Give the camera back."

Wayne seems affronted by her lack of  _oh-he's-dreamy_ in her reaction. "Why should I?"

"Because I think you should pick on things that are more… at your intellectual level."

Andrew winces. The sort of euphoria of making a friend suddenly ebbs away, leaving rejection it its wake.

"Oh?" Wayne's smile is back now, he's walking towards her.

"Yeah," Grace smirks, "I passed a kindergarten on my way over here. You should check it out."

She snatches the camera back while he's stunned, and grabs Andrew's arm when she reaches him. "Where d'you sit for lunch?" she asks.

"Up in the bleachers."

"Come on, then."

*.*

"So… this is where I sit for lunch," Andrew speaks slowly, turning so the camera can have a full view of the school, "and this is Grace. My new hero."

She laughs, a sound that's a little bit too loud and a little too boisterous for her body, but he likes it anyway. "Heroine."

"My new heroine. Thanks for that."

"You are very welcome. That guy needed a good verbal slap anyway."

"He probably hates you now." Andrew zooms in on her eyes, a smile tugging on his lips as he watches them narrow.

"It was going to happen sooner or later… I can't stand it when innocent people get picked on because they're  _different_ ," she emphasises the word, rolling her eyes.

"Grace McKibbon- defender of the underdog," She laughs again.

"I guess you could say that…  _Defender of the underdog_ … sounds good."

"I could totally picture you with a mask and cape."

"Oh, yeah! But what's my superhero name?"

"Defender?"

"Woefully unoriginal, Andy, I'm disappointed."

He snorts. "Andy?"

"Yeah. Short for Andrew?"

"I know that," he nudges her in the ribs, "but why?"

"I give nicknames to my friends." She glances at him from the corner of her eye, and grins.

He's so, so glad he's filming her when she says that.

"Are we friends?"

She rolls her eyes and frowns at him. " _Yes,_ Andy. We're friends."

His smile widens so much it hurts.

*.*

"Why're you  _smiling_ so much, dude?" Matt asks on the way home. "It's creepy."

"Sorry if I'm happy…?" Andrew asks, raising an eyebrow, turning the camera so it's trained on his cousin.

"Nah, nah, it's just… you don't usually seem so… animated."

"I'm just having a good day."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say there was a girl involved."

"Thanks, man." Andrew says sarcastically, but he can't stop the smile edging its way in again.

"There  _is_ a girl involved! It's the new one, isn't it? I saw you wave at her, man!" Matt's excited, almost bouncing up and down in the car seat. Andrew zooms in on his face.

"…Yeah."

"So…? What's she like? I heard she  _owned_  Wayne at lunch, and-" Matt cuts off, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

"And…?"

"And she's… ah, weird."

Andrew frowns. "What do you mean 'weird'?" he asks.

"She's sort of… detached, I guess. She's in my math class, and… she just seems like she's not quite  _there,_  you know? But when she talks to people it's like they're the only thing she's paying attention to."

"Is that bad?" he asks, perhaps a little too defensively.

"No, dude. Not at all. Just saying," Matt mutters. "Sorry."

Andrew ignores the apology and instead says, "her name's Grace."

"Suits her… well, sort of."

He laughs. "Yeah. And she's really cool."

"What do you guys talk about?"

" _Hamlet._ " The word is out before he can stop it, and he watches Matt's expression carefully.

"You like English?" There's no change, except for one lifted eyebrow and a sort-of smile.

"I like Shakespeare."

Matt smiles. "Cool. Never picked you as a Shakespeare kind of guy."

"Never picked you as a Confucius kind of guy."

"Shut up, man."

"Sorry, sorry." Andrew laughs.

"Oh, dude, before I forget- there's a rave thing on Saturday night… you wanna come?"

"… Not really."

Matt's smile turns into a disappointed frown. "Why?"

"Nobody would want me there."

" _I_ would."

Andrew doesn't reply, choosing instead to film the neighbourhoods flying past from the window.

Matt sighs, taking one hand off the wheel to rub the back of his neck. "You should ask Grace if she wants to go."

Andrew lowers the camera slightly. He doesn't want to go anyway, but with Grace there it might be bearable… and he recognises the expression on Matt's face straight away as stubbornness- he won't let up until Andrew gives in.

"OK. I'll go."

*.*

Andrew sits on his floor, sniffling, angrily wiping away the stubborn tears that won't stop falling.

_God, I'm pathetic._

He dabs the back of his hand on his mouth. It comes away bloody.

_I hate him._

He takes the box of tissues from his desk, stems the flow of blood coming from his lip, hoping against hope it won't be swollen for school tomorrow.

_Fight back._

But he couldn't. Of course not.

_Nowhere to go._

Not even Matt could help him with this…

_No-one to talk to._

His cell beeps, showing a text message.

**hey. what did you put for question 3 on our english hw?  
\- GM**

Andrew sighs. He hasn't done it yet.

**haven't done it yet… sorry  
\- AD**

_Beep, beep._

**slacking off, Andy?  
\- GM**

He smiles at her use of his nickname.  _Andy._ He grabs the camera from the floor next to him and rewinds back to lunch.

" _I give nicknames to my friends."_

 **never.**   **just keeping u on ur toes  
\- AD**

"Yes,  _Andy. We're friends."_

**sure, sure.  
\- GM**

**ok, ok, i was slacking… what's the question?  
\- AD**

**why does Ophelia go mad after her father dies when hamlet's dad dies too but he only pretends to be?  
\- GM**

**hamlet had a sense of purpose- to seek revenge, while Ophelia was always 2 sweet and innocent 2 even think about that  
\- AD**

**thankyou Andy** **  
\- GM**

**anytime gracie  
-AD**

**gracie?  
\- GM**

**i give nicknames to my friends  
\- AD**

**im glad  
\- GM**

**so am i  
\- AD**

**sorry but i gtg, hw and dinner, cu tomorrow?  
\- GM**

**yeah. Cya.  
\- AD**

He puts his cell back on his desk, smiling to himself.

" _I give nicknames to my friends."_


End file.
